


Nick of Time

by Cleverboots (Amberlovesocean)



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberlovesocean/pseuds/Cleverboots
Summary: Blaine is trusted with getting a large sum of money to the bank for his mother's charity. Kurt was trusted to stay out of trouble at his high school. It did not turn out well for either of the boys.Once they meet, maybe they can find a way to gain back their parents' trust, with a bit of help from each other.





	1. You Can Trust Me

_BLAINE_

It had been a bad day.  
Blaine had fought with his dad again. He wondered when exactly it had begun – that he had gone from being the apple of his father's eye to being the bane of his existence. Somewhere between fifth grade when he kicked the winning goal for his summer soccer team's finale and yesterday when his dad told him to show some worth, to try to do something for his family instead of just leaching off of them. He told him to find a job.  
Blaine had been hurt and shocked to his core. He was a straight-A student, the lead singer of the Warblers, a mid-fielder on the Lacrosse team, and a medal winner in his Latin class. He did all of his assigned household chores on time and with care. There was just something he wasn't understanding: his dad seemed angry at him all the time.  
Blaine was fairly sure it wasn't because he'd come out – his dad told him that he accepted that about him, but....? Blaine couldn't think of what else it could be.  
He had some hard decisions to make. In order to hold a job, he'd have to give up something in school.

It had all come to a head last night. His parents had come in from a charity benefit dinner. His mother, Pamela Creighton-Anderson, was head of several charities and this dinner had been a silent auction for raising funds for the Children's Hospital Foundation where she was president. Blaine's father, Hugh Anderson, was a Certified Public Accountant and owned his own company.  
Blaine had been in his room doing homework when his dad called him down.  
“Blaine, what were you up to? I expected to see you at the benefit tonight. We need to present a good picture to the community and you are expected to be there when your mother needs you,” Mr. Anderson scolded.  
“I'm sorry, Dad. I was finishing the paper on _'Grain Alternatives for a Changing Environment_ ' for my geography class. I found a new article that shed a different light on quinoa as an alternative grain in lower elevations, so I was just making last minute adjustments. That paper is a large percentage of my grade and I thought you'd want me to....” Blaine stopped, seeing his father's face redden with what Blaine thought was anger. Blaine turned to his mother.  
“Mom, I am so sorry I wasn't there. I should have come and finished my paper later...I apologize,” he said, his hands reaching for her small hands and taking them into his large ones. She was a tiny woman, fragile-looking, although Blaine knew she was tough as nails underneath.

“It's okay. I just missed you there, honey,” she said, giving him a small hug back, then stepping away. “I'm going up to bed. I will see you both in the morning.” She kissed her husband on the cheek and left the room. She had a bad cold coming on and her head hurt, though she hadn't mentioned it to her husband or son.  
“See what you did, Blaine?” his father growled. He assumed his wife was upset over Blaine's absence at the dinner.  
“I didn't mean to hurt her, Dad. I wasn't thinking. Can I do anything else to remedy this? I said I was sorry...” he mumbled, not sure what he could do to help.  
Hugh loved his son dearly. He had been a little shocked when Blaine came home one afternoon and told his parents, in a shy voice and looking at the floor, that he thought he was gay. They hadn't known what to say, so they didn't say anything. Maybe that was the wrong approach because the longer they didn't say anything, the harder it became to talk about and the bigger it loomed in their lives.  
The Anderson's had decided to send Blaine to Dalton Academy – it was a prestigious school and graduates did well in their college careers and on into their lives. They had signed Blaine up when he was two months old, so his confession that he was gay wasn't a determining factor in sending him. It just might have looked that way to Blaine - who thought that because he had to board at Dalton it meant that his parents didn't want him around.

“Well, maybe you can redeem yourself, son. I have the proceeds from the auction here,” Hugh said, pointing at the briefcase he'd set on the floor when he came in. It was rich, dark brown leather, polished with Mr Anderson's monogram on a brass plate on the front.  
“They need to be deposited in the bank account for the Children's Hospital in Columbus State Bank before you get your bus to Dalton in the morning. Can you handle a little responsibility, Blaine?” his father asked.  
“Yes, sir,” Blaine said immediately, hoping to make his father smile.  
“I want to trust you, son. The deposit slip is inside the brief case,” he said, handing Blaine the case. “There is over $7500 in there. Be careful – don't take your eyes off of it.”  
“I won't let you down, Dad. You can trust me.”

 

_ KURT _

Burt sat in the hallway outside the principal's office at McKinley High School. He hadn't sat here since he'd been a student at this very same high school, 25 years ago. He briefly wondered if old Mrs. Shoemaker still taught geometry and trig. He liked her, she had been instrumental in keeping him in school.  
“Mr. Hummel, the principal will see you now,” the secretary said, showing him into the office. Kurt was sitting there, his head down and his face resting in his hands, elbows on his knees.  
“What's this all about?” Burt asked as he sat down in the chair next to Kurt. His hand automatically went to rub Kurt's back.  
“Mr. Hummel, I have been informed that your son, Kurt, was seen exchanging money with another student who has been accused of illegal betting on district sporting events. This cannot be tolerated in our school and carries with it substantial penalties,” Mr. Figgins said.  
“Kurt? Did you do this?” Burt asked.  
Kurt turned red and lifted his face from his hands.  
“Yes, Dad, I gave Dave Karofsky money, just like Principal Figgins said,” confessed Kurt.  
“Were you...were you gambling? – on school property?” Burt asked, incredulous. He knew his son, or at least he thought he did. Plus, Kurt didn't follow sports, unless you count Fashion Week in New York a “sport”. He stared at his son and Kurt turned an even darker shade of red, his breath quick and shallow. Kurt's hands were twisting in his lap, a sign of nervousness that Burt didn't often see.  
“Why?” he asked.  
Kurt put his face back into his hands, not answering, just trembling.  
“I have just been going over the rules with your son, Mr. Hummel. It clearly states that participating in gambling is a serious offense. It is well within my scope as an administrator at this place of higher learning to suspend or expel Kurt right now,” Mr. Figgins said gruffly. He glared at Kurt.  
“Principal Figgins, you and I both know my son has an excellent record with this school. Could you see your way clear to give him a chance to redeem himself?” Burt asked, grasping at straws. He knew there was a reason that Kurt acted the way he did, but he could also see that Kurt was not about to divulge anything else. He, as Kurt's father, had to minimize the punishment until he could get to the bottom of this.  
“What do you suggest?” Principal Figgins asked, willing to listen to Burt. He was very surprised that Kurt had been involved with some of the rougher kids. Kurt was usually seen running from them, hiding from them, or ignoring them. He sighed.  
“Maybe some kind of community service?” Burt suggested off the top of his head.  
The principal touched his fingertips together, pushing his fingers up into a steeple shape and then back flat, his eyes closed as he thought. He heard both of the Hummel men shift in their chairs before he decided on a punishment.  
“All right. Because of Kurt's excellent record...and because he is an integral part of our winning show choir, I will allow him to do community service, three days a week after school. I will let you know where this is to be done by tomorrow morning. I expect great things from you, Kurt Hummel.”  
And with that, they were dismissed.

~

“Dad, don't ask me,” Kurt said soon as he got home and walked in the door, his father waiting for him at the dining room table.  
“Kurt....” Burt started, but Kurt interrupted him.  
“Dad, I have never given you a reason to distrust me, have I?” he asked.  
“No, son, you haven't. That's why I am so confused. What on earth was going on? Since when do you have anything to do with Dave Karofsky?”  
“Dad, I just can't tell you. I was not gambling, I can guarantee you that. I had my reasons and they are....ah...private. It concerns someone else's welfare and if I am willing to take the punishment, well, I want you to understand how serious I am about this. Please, Dad.” Kurt stood next to his father, his blue eyes liquid with worry.  
Burt closed his eyes. Everything in him wanted to know why Kurt would be handing money to Karofsky. He knew the boy was trouble and he knew he was the main bully in Kurt's life. Was Kurt paying him off? He wanted to shake Kurt until he told him everything. Burt was worried, but he had to trust his son. He had always trusted Kurt to do the right thing. He took after his mother in that – always knowing what was the right thing to do. Burt sighed.  
“Okay, Kurt. I do trust you. I don't know what the hell you're thinking, but I won't ask you again. Just....be careful. It is just as bad to do the right things for the wrong reason as it is to do the wrong thing for the right reason. Be careful. Don't let your schoolwork slip,” Burt said, gathering Kurt into his arms. “I love you, son.”  
“I won't let you down, Dad. You can trust me.”


	2. Tough Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Thanks for all the kind notes from...whoa, so many people! Just a few notes:
> 
> Yes, this is my first story rated less-than-M.
> 
> Yes, it is already written and I'll be posting it frequently...only 6 chapters, so it won't take long.
> 
> No, in spite of the name, Nick Duvall won't be making an appearance. Sorry if you thought that.
> 
> And last...my lovely beta, Klainelove, wasn't able to edit this story for me, so you might see a lot of errors. Sigh. I try, but I sure miss Klainelove's guiding hand. She will be back on my next story (partially written already...a sequel to Bound for Glory. Yes, I know I've been promising that for years, but it is almost 20 chapters done and maybe 15 more to go, so expect it before the end of the year!)

_ BLAINE _

Blaine Anderson was on the bus in downtown Columbus. This morning his dad dropped him at the suburban stop near their home, leaving last minute instructions to keep his hand on the grip of the briefcase and his eyes on it at all times. Blaine smiled back, knowing he could do this for his parents. He basked in the thought that he could please his folks with this simple task.  
As he rode in the bus, Blaine watched the seats fill up as they approached the center of town. As all of the seats were filled, an older woman boarded the bus, her arms filled with grocery sacks, a bag of knitting, and a large purse. She stood unsteadily, stretching almost to her tip-toes to reach the strap to hold on.  
Blaine, being a gentleman, took the briefcase from his lap and held it tightly in his left hand as he helped to settle the woman in his former seat. The look of relief on her face along with her heartfelt thanks were reward enough for the young man.  
Blaine's mind was still reeling from last night. He took his dad's words to heart and was trying to figure out which one of his activities to cut so he could get a job. He frowned, his brows knitted together as the gave each of his extracurricular activities some thought.  
The bus got more crowded as it reached the edge of the business district and Blaine was forced to set the briefcase on the floor between his feet. He gripped it tightly between his ankles as the elbow room on the bus got so close he could hear the man behind him breathing and smell the pancakes the young woman standing beside him had for breakfast. It was uncomfortable. As he stood swaying in the aisle, Blaine continued to weigh whether giving up the Warblers or giving up Lacrosse would be more detrimental to his applications to Ivy League schools. He thought of giving up Latin, but that took place during the school day, so that wasn't even a consideration.  
At last, he was at his stop – the one near the Columbus bank where he could deposit the cash and then walk to the bus station and get the bus to school in Westerville. He could be at Dalton in time for his American History class. He sighed in relief. Crowded buses were not in his comfort zone. After pulling the wire for the bus to stop, he manipulated the brief case to the edge of the door with his feet and waited. Stepping down, he reached back to get a hefty grip on the case - it was quite heavy with the amount of cash inside - and lifted it down. The doors snapped closed and the bus was down the street before Blaine could pick up the brief case to take to the bank.  
Something was wrong. Very wrong.  
The case was not as heavy as it had seemed this morning. Looking down, Blaine realized that this brief case was not the rich reddish brown of his father's. It didn't have a brass plate with the Anderson monogram. No, this briefcase was scuffed up, dirty leather of a lighter color. It had no brass plate and the latch was flimsy. Lifting it up, Blaine realized his feet had been guarding something worth so much less than what he'd been trusted to care for. He fell to the knees on the pavement, his head in his hands.  
It was just a few moments before Blaine opened the case in front of him. It was old and not well cared for, but that didn't matter. Maybe Blaine could find out who it belonged to? He could call them and get his brief case back.  
Sitting on a bench in front of the bank, Blaine opened the case to find that it was almost empty: just a few torn shirts, some squashed aluminum cans, and a pair of worn-out shoes. Nothing had any identifying marks on it. Obviously the person who owned it had seen how nice Blaine's case was, how heavy it was, and realized he could exchange them in the chaos of the morning rush on the bus.

Blaine's heart dropped to the ground. His father had trusted him.

And he let his parents down.

Maybe all the things that his dad said were true. Blaine was just a drain on his family, not to be trusted with the simplest task. He'd have to make this up to the Foundation to save face for his mother and father.

It was in a flurry of panic that Blaine decided to get out of Columbus until he could fix this. He didn't want to see the disappointment in the eyes of his parents. That would kill him.

He walked to the station to take the next bus out of town. Not to Westerville, where Dalton was, but to wherever he could go first and farthest. He looked up at the board to see where the next departing bus was headed. Lima. He'd never been to Lima, but it sounded far enough away from his problem. He had to put space between himself and the failure he felt over fucking up the only real task his father had ever trusted him with. He would need to feed himself and save $7500. He had a little under $600 in his bank account now and that was not near enough. He had his work cut out for him.

 

_KURT_

“I have to work at the Dog Pound?” Kurt asked, sitting once again in the principal's office. “Are you sure you don't mean Teddy's Rescue on Cranberry Lane, do you?” Kurt was hopeful. He had been to the bright and pretty rescue over in Findlay with Brittney.  
“No, Kurt Hummel. The Dog Pound. The one at the edge of town, across the tracks, on Jason Street. This is not a fun thing, no walking cute doggies in the park. No. You will be cleaning cages and processing police reports. This is not where people come to give away their cute cocker spaniel puppy that became inconvenient when it chewed the carpet. No. This is like dog jail. The dog catcher brings the strays he finds at the city dump there. This is punishment, Kurt, not Club Med,” the principal told him. “I expect you to report there after school today.”

~

Kurt showed up at the old facility, smelling it before he could see it. It was near the river outside the town limits because back in the day dogs were drown in large cages lowered into that river. Of course that was no longer the case. Now they were dispatched with a lethal injection and their bodies burned at the animal crematorium near the dump. Kurt learned that one of his duties would be to drive the truck of dead animals to the animal crematorium at the end of each week. This punishment was going to break his heart.

It was hard enough the first day. He didn't mind that he was the only person younger than forty in the whole place. He didn't mind that all of the employees were grumpy and non-communicative. What he did mind, what he hated, was to see the animals looking so dejected and filthy. He chirped at the first dog he came to, ready to move it into another pen so he could clean it's cage. The dog growled and Kurt closed the door quickly, looking at the man he was following to learn the job.  
“If they growl, just turn on the water and chase them through. This button will close the gate behind them. You never have to touch them,” the man said, aiming the hose at the frightened dog to make it run into the pen. He hit the button that lowered the gate with a crash and the dog tried to bite the gate in his fright.  
The man then handed the hose to Kurt to try and clean the floor of dog mess. This dog had been sick and it took a while to get it all off the floor before he was able to turn off the water and let the dog back in before moving to the next cage.  
Some of the dogs were nice, some obviously sick – those were referred to the veterinarian that came once a week – and some were shy or frightened. Most were mutts and mongrels. The only purebred dogs Kurt ever saw were pit bull terriers, Labradors, or border collie for some reason. He was told by another employee that there were just too many Labradors and not enough homes. The border collies were cute puppies, very smart, but needed to have a large place to run and something to occupy their minds – or they got aggressive. He said you saw the occasional husky because they chased cats. Otherwise it was mixed breed dogs, large and small, that waited out their time and were often put down because nobody cared.

Kurt went to his community service every week, three times a week, and slowly made a few friends. His compassion for the poor animals was met with stoic acceptance from his co-workers who had felt just like he did when they first came to the pound. They were not happy in their jobs but felt they had nowhere else to turn.  
Kurt made friends with some of the dogs – bringing treats in his pocket for some who had been there the longest. The worst thing was when he came on Monday and found some of his favorites were gone. At first he would hurry to the record book to see if someone had come to adopt a dog or to claim a lost one at the last minute. Too often he found that the dog had lived out his time and was in a “better place”.

It wasn't long before Kurt didn't ask anymore about the dogs that were gone. He preferred to think they all got forever homes, but he was the one who drove the truck to the crematorium and although he never, ever looked, he knew how long it took to empty the truck. He waited for the worker to rinse out the truck and Kurt drove it back to the Dog Pound.

He often thought about why he was here. He did not lie to his dad...he had nothing to do with Karofsky's gambling business. No, he had been kissed by Dave in the locker room and then threatened. He was terrified. It got worse every day with the locker collisions, the football guys tripping him, the name calling, and the slushee facials.  
Kurt had finally had enough and waited for Dave one day after school. As Karofsky walked down the hallway, Kurt waited with some pamphlets. He was going to hand them to Dave and walk away, hoping they might help. Just as he was about to hand them to the boy as he walked by, Kurt spotted some students coming their direction. He quickly wrapped a ten dollar bill around the rolled pamphlets to hide what they really were, knowing Karofsky had been collecting bets all day for the basketball game. He handed the money to Dave and slipped out the side doors to the parking lot. Mission accomplished.  
Kurt expected that to be the end of it. He hoped that Dave would learn what he needed to or use the links to websites to find out more. They had been very helpful to Kurt.  
However, that was not the end of it...one of the students had seen Kurt hand the “money” to Dave and reported it to the principal, which is why Kurt had been cooling his heels in the office until his dad came. He just could not tell anyone – even his dad – about Dave Karofsky. He. Did. Not. Out. Anyone.  
So, his hare-brained scheme to get Dave off his back had gone terribly awry and he would be serving his time at the worst dog pound in the state of Ohio until the end of the year. Maybe it would look good on his resume.  
On the other side of the coin, Dave himself quit harassing Kurt. It didn't stop immediately, it just slowed down over the weeks until it ground to a stop - coinciding with the start of football practice beefing up. Kurt had thought it was a coincidence until one day he was walking down the hall and Dave gave him a small nod. It wasn't much, but it was very obvious. He gave Dave a small smile back and that was the end of it.  
Kurt tried to convince himself that serving community service at the Dog Pound was worth not getting bullied by Karofsky.

 

_ BLAINE _

Blaine walked through Lima, looking at the parks and buildings of the downtown business district. It was very small compared to Columbus, but generally the same as Westerville. He sat down in the park, getting out his wallet to see what he had to work with. He'd left his credit card at home. He didn't use it much, especially not at school, so he didn't carry it with him. He had almost $70 in his wallet – enough to get a hotel room for one night. Not a very good way to conserve his money until he could get a job.  
Maybe he should start there.

After several hours of trying to find anyone hiring, Blaine was exhausted. He had gone to a small store and purchased some soda crackers and cheese along with an apple. It made a nice lunch – hunger being the perfect appetizer. It was getting on towards night. The wind coming off the river from the north was chilly and Blaine walked down under a bridge he'd seen, and huddled above the damp soil close to the river. He knew he needed to stay dry if he was going to avoid getting sick.  
He was wearing his dark blue suit jacket, not the Dalton blazer, with his gray uniform slacks and a white shirt. His new Hermes Napoli blue calfskin suede shoes that his mother got him as a present were not going to last if he got them wet. Tomorrow he would stop by a discount store to get some cheap boat shoes or maybe boots. The weather was beginning to change, and not for the better.

Morning came early, no sleeping in for Blaine as he tried to stand up. He had slept fitfully all night, sitting up with his arms around his legs. He was terrified he would be killed for his shoes – he'd heard of that. The best thing would be to write his parents a letter, let them know he was working to fix his mistake and he would be home as soon as he had the money.  
He went to the second hand/thrift store and got a good, heavy pair of work boots, a few shirts and pairs of jeans, some socks, and a heavy winter coat – very out of fashion but he wasn't looking for that right now. He spent less than $25. Then he went back to the bus station and rented a locker in which he put his Hermes shoes, his linen shirt, the uniform trousers, and his blue suit jacket. It wasn't like he was going to be applying at a bank for a job.  
After applying at numerous places: a landscaping business, restaurants, gas stations, grocery stores, and a dog day care, he walked back to the little store where he talked to the old man that owned it. It was what Blaine had always called a 'Mom and Pop Store', but he wasn't sure if that was an insult, so he didn't say it. He asked if the man was hiring, but he wasn't. He was, however, willing to sell Blaine some day-old bread and some overripe fruit along with another small wedge of cheese. It was enough and it didn't cost much.  
On his way to the bridge to try and get some sleep, Blaine spotted a large box in an alley. It was a box that had once held a washing machine and Blaine thought that he could pull it down to his spot under the bridge and be out of the wind tonight.  
That turned out to be a good idea. He was self-conscious at being seen pulling the box along, but nobody disturbed him. He got it under the bridge with a bit of trouble and then climbed inside and closed the box – leaving one flap open for air.  
What Blaine noticed the most was the smell of the dead leaves that covered everything. They were all over the grass in the park, blew down streets whenever a breeze came up. It was a warning that winter was on its way and Blaine shivered just thinking about it. How long would it take to earn $7000?  
It was quite surprising how warm it was with no wind hitting him. Tomorrow maybe he could find something to make it softer to lay down. In the mean time, he was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. He laid down and thought about his mom and dad and how much he missed them.  
“Mom, Dad...I love you so much. I want you to be proud of me once again some day and I will do everything in my power to show you that I deserve to be your son and you will love me again,” he said, his eyes getting hot and scratchy as he tried to keep from crying. He fell asleep thinking of that day.

~

It was early. The sun wasn't even up, Blaine thought as he opened his eyes for just a brief peek around him. He was so tired, he went back to sleep and was almost gone when he felt a movement in the box. He opened his eyes to see a rat climbing along the edge of the box, his whiskers wiggling as he sniffed. Blaine lay still, thinking the rat would just go away. He was wrong. The rat had found one of Blaine's crackers and was chewing on it industriously as he surveyed his surroundings.  
Blaine froze, having never seen a rat outside the barn at the polo field. He wasn't sure what to do when he remembered one of the stable hands had banged on a big tub to scare the rat away. He looked around, finding nothing to bang on but the washer box he was laying in. He hit the side, making the most noise that he could, yelling and slapping the cardboard. The rat fled.  
“I guess I will have to find something to keep my stuff in...a glass container, maybe,” he said to himself. He thought of checking behind some of the restaurants where he had applied today, he thought he might find some pickle jars or something to keep his crackers and cheese in.  
He was almost back asleep when he heard the rat again. Opening his eyes but not moving, Blaine saw the rat come back to sniff closer to him. Last night, Blaine had placed the leftover cheese in a piece of greasy paper he had found and put it in his pocket for this morning. He thought the rat was headed towards this and really didn't want a rat bite. Dying of rabies or plague was not how he wanted it all to end.

  
Just as he was crouching, ready to spring up and run, the flaps on the box opened and he was bowled over by a large dog of indeterminate color. It leaped into the box and filled the remaining space with his heavy fur and scrabbling feet. Then came a scruffy terrier of even dirtier color with darker soiled parts and a cute nose and shiny eyes. He (or she?) had no eyes for Blaine, however. It wanted that rat and chased the frightened critter out of the box. Blaine fell forward, sticking his head out the front flaps just in time to see the dog catch the rat by the back of its neck – followed by a 'snap' as it broke the rodent's neck.  
He had never seen such bravery, such courage in a creature so very small. The bigger dog followed its companion out and began to walk away, the smaller dog falling into step. Blaine panicked, not wanting his saviors to leave.  
“Come back...please come back!” he called but got no response. He had decided to get up and follow him when he started to whistle a tune. Blaine loved music and always hummed or whistled when he was thinking.

He saw the scrappy terrier as another dog – some kind of hound – try to take the rat from him, but the terrier won the tug-of-war when the hound's owner took his dog away.  
Blaine stood just outside his box-home and watched as the two dogs turned to look at him then trotted down the edge of the river, off on their own adventures.


	3. What Might Never Be

 

_ KURT _

 

Once again, Kurt left the dog pound with his face sad, his heart hurting. He had his eye on a fluffy, curly dog with one blue eye and one dark brown. It was friendly and smart and should not have been in this horrible place, but none of them should and he couldn't rescue them all. He couldn't even rescue _one_. He'd asked his dad, but Burt reasoned that with him at the shop all day and Kurt at school, the dog would get bored and unhappy.

Burt was right, of course, but that didn't make Kurt feel any better. He fell in love with a new dog every week...cute ones, big ones, sad ones. He had a germ of an idea and started on it the same weekend.

Each Saturday and Sunday he accompanied his dad to the shop and pulled the weeds from the yard in back of the office. He dug up the old soil and added compost, planting grass seed. Then he took some old pallets and pulled them apart. He used the planks to make a large dog house, though he didn't show that to his dad. He even found a picnic table in need of a little TLC on craigslist and took his dad's truck to get it and bring it back to the shop.

When he was done, he was very proud of what he had accomplished.

 

“Hey, Dad? You have a minute?” he asked, going into the shop to find him.

“Sure, Kurt, what do you need?”

“Can you come out back here for a minute?”

“Yeah....” Burt said as he walked around the building to the back area. He knew Kurt had been cleaning things up in the back, but he never expected what he found. The yard was cleaned up, dying weeds replaced by rich looking soil. Around the outside of the fence were flower boxes with orange, gold, and red fall flowers blooming. Inside the yard was a dog house with a raised floor and a front doorway planned to keep the north wind from coming in. There was a refurbished picnic table, looking almost new with padded seats and a tablecloth. The old ivy had been weeded and was now climbing the south side of the yard along the fence to keep out too much sun.

“Oh, Kurt, this is beautiful,” Burt said, stunned at the transformation. “Me and the boys can eat lunch out here and play checkers.”

“The boys and I, Dad!” Kurt corrected his dad's grammar and got a fake sock-in-the-shoulder. Burt hugged Kurt close to his chest, squeezing tight before he let go.

“Is this all because I said you can't have a dog because it would be all alone at home?” Burt asked, then smirked when Kurt realized he couldn't argue.

“Yeah. I just thought – if I can show you how sure I am about wanting a dog, then maybe...?”

Burt rolled his eyes and smiled at Kurt.

“Well, let's get through winter, buddy, then talk about it,” Burt offered. Kurt frowned. He wanted a dog, but didn't know how much work it might be.

 

“I just want to help, you know? I want to make a difference to someone,” Kurt said.

“I know, buddy, Burt said to his son, “I know.”

 

* * *

_ BLAINE _

 

Another day of rejection. Blaine had never tried harder to get something accomplished in his life. He had just about come to the end of his cash. He'd splurged on a blanket at the thrift store, but otherwise hadn't spent money on anything but food.

After five days of sleeping on the hard cardboard, he'd hit on the idea of gathering dry leaves – there were plenty of those around – and filling the box. He put the blanket on top of the leaves at first, making a softer place to lie down. Then he nestled in the leaves and newspapers with the blanket on top when it got really cold.

In the evening, when he ate his crackers and bit of cheese or some vegetables that had been given away as pet rabbit food, he'd sit in front of the box and watch the squirrels. Some days he saw the two dogs as they rambled up and down the bank of the river. When it got cooler, Blaine would sometimes start a fire in an old pot he'd found in the garbage. He could cook an egg in a tin can he cleaned up and have a hot breakfast.

The best he could come up with in terms of finding gainful employment was busking in the park. He didn't know if it was illegal, so he stopped at the first sign of a policeman. He sang songs that people requested, knowing a lot of music from all genres, and sometimes teamed up with a guitar player that frequented the downtown park in the early evenings.

Blaine took everything he earned, hid half in the locker at the bus station and half he used to buy food. He was getting desperate, though. At this rate, he would not be able to pay the Children's Hospital Foundation back until he was forty.

 

Walking down a new street one day, Blaine saw a bunch of kids his age in football uniforms. They were chasing another kid who was running, cutting through the bushes around the school grounds. He wanted to help in some way, so he pretended to trip just as the biggest of the boys ran past. He was a big guy, probably a linebacker or something, his clothes dirty from a workout and his short afro full of dry grass.

Blaine fell just in front of the leader, tripping him and at least three guys just behind him. He got up, apologizing to the team members as if it were an accident. The last thing he saw was their victim dodge around a building down the block.

 

That evening Blaine was walking back to his 'house' when he saw the same big guy walking through the park.

“Hey, aren't you the kid that tripped me today?” Azimio said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yeah, I'm so sorry about that. I tripped on something in the sidewalk. I didn't hurt you did I?” Blaine asked.

“Of course you didn't. What do you think I am? A little girl?” the player asked, a sharp anger in his voice. Blaine's blood ran cold. If this guy wanted to hurt him...

Just as Azimio had gotten too close to Blaine, a dog stepped out of the bushes. He stood in front of Blaine. He faced the angry bully - his teeth showing and a deep growl in his throat. It was the ugly, mangy dog that Blaine had seen around his squatter place.

“Hey, that your dog? It is friendly, because it doesn't look friendly,” Azimio asked, staring at the dog and its teeth.

“Not very...especially if he thinks I am being threatened,” Blaine replied, hoping the dog would just stay there for a while.

Azimio was not fond of dogs, especially not big dogs. He turned tail and ran the other direction. Blaine smiled and crouched down to pet the dog who had just saved him from harm. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his nightly piece of cheese and split it in half. He gave the smaller piece to the dog.

“Let's go home,” he said and the dog fell into step with him. He'd gone several blocks before he realized he could hear the small terrier, too. It joined them and they walked down under the bridge to sit and eat supper.

 

In the morning, Blaine got up early as usual but today was different. The big dog had slept across the threshold of the small home under the bridge. The terrier was even more dirty than he -she?- had been before. The dogs both needed to be bathed and combed.

 

From that day on, Blaine wasn't alone anymore. All those days of crying himself to sleep in self-pity, knowing he put himself in this position through his own carelessness were just a bit better knowing he had the dogs. He missed his friends at school, he missed his lacrosse teammates and the Warblers. Most of all he missed his parents. He never wrote the letter to them to let them know he was working to repay the money. He was too ashamed of what he'd done through his own neglect.

When he got too melancholy, the dogs would try to lay close to him or try to get him to play. He didn't know how he got so lucky as to have them in his life, but he was grateful for them every day.

 

* * *

_ KURT _

 

 

It was a chilly day today and Kurt was wearing the McKinley High hoodie and sweat pants he'd gotten when he was a member of the football team. He'd only been a member for a few weeks, but he'd been given several of these pairs of sweats. He laughed this morning, finding it funny that he finally found a place to wear them.

There were three new dogs in intake, picked up by the dog catcher this morning. They would be evaluated and placed in holding pens for ten days to see if their owner came to pay the fines and collect them. One was a pit bull terrier. He was a friendly sort, wagging what was left of his tail and appearing to grin with his raggedly torn ears and mouth full of shiny teeth.

Then there were two that seemed to go together. One was a mutt with long hair that looked as if someone had tried to comb him out but with little success. He was a rangy dog: long legs, pointy nose, and small tulip ears. His companion was a small female terrier of some kind, filthy as if she had rolled in the mud. Maybe Kurt could spray her off a little when he cleaned her pen. He couldn't really get her soaking because it was too cold.

Kurt processed the paperwork and led the dogs to the holding area. He really hoped they would be found by their owners.

 

* * *

_ BLAINE _

 

Blaine had made more money than usual today. A third person, a chubby girl with dark brown curls and braces on her teeth came with the guitar player and brought a clarinet. They played several songs and Blaine joined in when they began to sing. There were a few more people than usual in the lunchtime crowd and they had been generous.

It was late afternoon when Blaine came back, happy because the old man at the small grocery had given Blaine two soup bones with the usual wilted vegetables. He had no way of cooking them, but he could give the bones to his dogs.

He walked down the path to his box house, looking it over. He'd been on the lookout for a new box. This one was sagging in too many places and beginning to have an unpleasant odor.

“Sandy, Ranger!” Blaine called. He had named the dogs as they hung around more. It was a few weeks, but now Blaine had begun to think of the dogs as his. He waited. The dogs usually met him as he walked down the path. He called them again, but nothing.

Blaine spent two hours walking all around the area, from the park in town to the river's edge, up and down the bank, calling to them.

He finally gave up for the night, it was too dark to see.

On his way back to his box house, he saw a girl that often walked her own dog along the path up by the bridge.

“Hey, are you looking for your dogs?” she called.

“Yes!” Blaine called back from where he stood. He was surprised that anyone had noticed him and his dogs.

“I saw the dog catcher chasing them...maybe he got them. You should keep them on a leash, you know. Now you'll have to pay a fine.”

He thanked her and asked about the whereabouts of the animal shelter.

“Oh, no...they wouldn't be taken there. No, they'd be in the dog pound way out on Jason Street,” she said, a sad look on her face.

“Thank you,” Blaine said, determined to go there in the morning to spring his companions from the dog jail.

 

* * *

_ KURT _

 

“How are you today?” Kurt asked the two dogs he'd housed together in the large holding pen.

“That's Ranger and Sandy,” Caroline, one of the workers, said as she joined Kurt in the holding area.

“A kid was in here today, begging for us to give him back the dogs. I had to tell him there were some stiff fines before we could hand them over - $150 each for letting them run at large, $30 each for their rabies shot and $45 each for the city license.”

Kurt added that up in his head: $450 to get these two back out. He hoped the kid had the money to do it.

Kurt knew the rules. The dogs had ten days for their owner to claim them before they were available for adoption, then ten more days before they were put down. It didn't seem very hopeful.

 

Kurt went home that night feeling sad. He hated his punishment, he hated the dog pound, he hated all the rules. Caroline told him about the owner of the dogs. He was a cute kid, maybe Kurt's age, with curly black hair and big brown eyes. He'd come in and identified the dogs as his, then she told him about the fines. He had gotten weak at the knees and almost collapsed, then gathered himself and asked more questions. But no, she'd had to tell him, he could not pay down and then make the rest of the money up over time. No, there was no bending the rules. And finally, Yes, she would allow him to visit the dogs in their holding pen.

 

“I led him back there, Kurt, and he was down on that filthy floor with them right away. He hugged them both and sat with them as long as I would let him. He threw a rolled up handkerchief for them to catch and played with them all morning. It would have broken your heart, honey,” she finished.

 

Kurt didn't work on Tuesdays, but he was back at the dog pound on Wednesday. The first thing he found was that the owner of the dogs was sitting in the pen with them. Kurt stopped to watch for a few minutes before he began his duties.

The boy was talking to the dogs, throwing the balled-up handkerchief to them to catch. He was smiling at them, holding the terrier, Sandy, on his lap and stroking the bigger dog's head whenever he came close enough. Then Kurt was flabbergasted. The boy began to sing to the dogs in the most beautiful voice. He opened his eyes and looked over at Ranger, getting a glimpse of Kurt in the corner of his eye.

 

“Oh...sorry. Ranger calms down when he hears me sing. I didn't want to disturb anyone...” Blaine said, blushing at being caught singing.

“No, no...it's fine. I don't mind...you have a beautiful voice. I find singing can calm them down when the whole pound is having a bark-fest,” Kurt said, walking over and letting himself into the pen.

“I'm Kurt,” he said, holding his hand out.

“Blaine.” He shook Kurt's hand and gave him a smile. “You work here?”

“Yeah. Well, I'm not an employee. I am doing some community service. This is my punishment,” Kurt admitted. He didn't usually tell people about his transgression, it was not something to be proud of, but he felt that Blaine wouldn't judge him.

“Oh. But you take care of the dogs here?” he asked, his eyes curious.

“Yes, sort of. I clean their cages and feed them. I process paperwork. I'm here three days a week in the afternoons,” Kurt said, leaning down to pet Sandy, who was sitting up on her back legs and begging. “She sure is cute.”

“She is. And a champion rat catcher, too,” Blaine bragged. “She saved me from getting bit by a rat the first time I saw her.”

“Whoa...in your house?” Kurt asked, taking in the fact the Blaine looked as though he hadn't had a bath in...weeks? He was neatly dressed in work clothes, but not very clean. It was a stark contrast to the way he carried himself, as if he was a king. Blaine was a mystery.

“No...I was, ah...outside. I'd fallen asleep and the rat thought the cheese crumbs in my pocket would make a nice dessert. Sandy chased the rat, caught it and snapped it's neck. It was impressive,” Blaine said, looking into Kurt's eyes. He could see a kindred spirit there, he was sure.

“I know they let you come back here to visit your dogs, which isn't strictly by the rules. Caroline is a kind person. But I need to clean the pens. Here, I will show you where I put the dogs while I clean the floors,” Kurt directed. He called the dogs into the smaller cages and snapped the gates shut as quietly as he could. He hated slamming the gates and scaring the dogs.

“If you could wait outside – I don't want to splash you,” Kurt said and Blaine backed up but didn't leave the room.

Kurt made quick work of his duties, making sure all the floors were spotless before taking the pans and measuring out the food. He changed the water in the buckets and put down a blanket for the night and then let Sandy and Ranger back in. Blaine watched Kurt do his jobs and then asked if he could help with the other dogs in the area.

“You don't have to do anything, it's my duty,” Kurt said, surprised that anyone would want to pick up dog mess.

“I don't mind. I'd kind of like to help. You're the first person my age I've met in Lima – at least to speak to,” Blaine said.

“Well, then come along with me if you like, I'm always up for a conversation,” he smiled at the cute boy. For some reason he really liked Blaine.

 


	4. Friends In Need

“That's it, I'm done,” Kurt said, smiling at Blaine. He had finished the mopping, cleaning, and feeding of all the dogs in his area. Blaine had kept him company, going back every once in a while to pet Sandy and Ranger and talk to them.

“The Pound closes in about ten minutes. I need to go get some papers filed, then they lock up,” Kurt said.

“Yeah, I know....it's going to be lonely without my pals tonight,” Blaine said. He gave Kurt a wan smile, more sadness than joy.

Kurt hurried through the small amount of desk work and was walking out to his Navigator just as Blaine was walking down the long road back to town. The wind had picked up again and Blaine hugged his coat tighter around his shoulders to try and keep warm on the way back. He wished he had a hat. He could get back to his box house in just about an hour.

 

“Hey, you need a lift?” Kurt asked, pulling up beside Blaine and lowering his window.

“You going into Lima?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah. Hop in,” Kurt offered. Blaine was dead tired. He hadn't eaten all day and the long walk was not something he was looking forward to in the cold. He nodded his head and got into the SUV beside Kurt, thanking him for the ride.

 

They were silent for a few minutes, then started up talking just like they'd known each other a long time.

“Do you have the money to get your dogs out?” Kurt asked, hesitant to ask but he really wanted to know.

“No. I am trying to raise it – but I can't seem to get a job,” he said.

“Won't your folks help?” Kurt asked.

“Ah...they aren't in a position to help me right now,” Blaine said, hesitant to say anything.

“I'm sorry. That's the worst break. I wish I could help,” Kurt sighed. He hated the Pound.

“I'm trying to get it...I do have about $90 now, but not much way to get more. I busk in the park every day and sometimes I get a generous person to leave a tip. I have been applying to anywhere I can to get a job, but I don't have many options and the worst thing...” Blaine stopped and took a shaky breath. He didn't want Kurt to hear the sob in his voice. He couldn't tell anyone that he was homeless and trying to repay thousands that he'd lost through carelessness.

“Blaine? Are you okay?” Kurt asked, glancing at the silent boy and seeing that he was crying.

“Hey, now...” Kurt started, then pulled into a parking lot.

“Oh...you want me to get out? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, really,” Blaine apologized. “I guess I'm just a mess. I miss my dogs and I'm terrified they will be killed. I can't stop crying over it like a little baby. I guess it's true that gay boys are too emotional. So stereotype...” he sobbed, then grit his teeth and made himself sit up straight and start to turn to get out of the vehicle.

“Oh, no...Blaine, no!” Kurt reached over and touched Blaine's arm. The boy stopped and looked at Kurt, his brown eyes filled with tears.

“I just needed something. Stay here out of the wind and I'll be right back. I promise,” Kurt said, his voice getting higher. Blaine nodded and looked down at his lap. He had really embarrassed himself in front of his new friend.

 

Kurt was back out in a few minutes, two large cups in his hands. He got back in his SUV and handed one cup to Blaine.

“I though you might need something to get warm. I didn't know your coffee order, so I got us both hot chocolate,” Kurt smiled.

Blaine accepted the cup, his fingers trembling as he brought the rich smelling liquid to his lips. He took one tiny sip, savoring each drop. It had been over a month since he'd had coffee or any other warm drink, but this was delicious. Glorious. This was heaven in a cup.

“Thank you, Kurt, this is sooo good! The first time I've had something hot in way too long.” Blaine smiled wider and settled down to the seat and leaned back. It was really warm in the Navigator.

Kurt drove to the park where Blaine directed him and they sat and talked for almost an hour. Blaine was vague about where he lived and some other things. He didn't want to lie to Kurt – who was fast becoming his best friend in Lima – but he just could not tell him everything. He couldn't be found out and sent back to Columbus in disgrace.

 

He finished his hot chocolate and smiled at Kurt.

“Thanks for the drink and the ride. I'll just get out here, it's close to home,” he said, opening the door.

“What...do you live in the park? Is this a Star Trek movie?' he joked.

Blaine winked at him and walked quickly away, around the park until he heard Kurt's Navigator leave. Then he headed back to his cold, damp, lonely box under the bridge.

 

* * *

_ KURT _

 

The next week, Kurt was beside himself with a new worry. He'd seen Blaine every time he went to work at the Pound. Every day Blaine was there, sitting on the cement floor of the holding area's biggest pen. Now that he knew where the equipment was, Blaine cleaned the pen before Kurt got there.

He was sitting with Ranger - who was asleep, head on Blaine's leg, and Sandy in his lap. It had passed the ten day deadline for Blaine to claim the animals and it was now five days before the last day for them to be adopted.

Kurt didn't have a good feeling about this. He knew almost no one came to look for a dog to adopt at the Pound. No, the Animal Shelter across town had cute dogs, groomed and trained sometimes. They had a visiting room, brightly painted murals on the walls, and carpeted floors. They were near the city center and they had a big advertising campaign. The Pound was just an institutionalized place to hold unwanted dogs before killing them.

 

After work, Kurt once again asked Blaine if he wanted a ride back into town.

 

Kurt had learned that Blaine loved hot chocolate and he got them some each day he drove. Blaine had offered to buy several times, but Kurt told him to save the money for the dogs. Today was colder than it had been all week. Blaine shivered when Kurt opened the door of the car to get the hot chocolate.

They talked for a time while parked at the edge of the park, watching the strong wind blow the leaves from the trees. Blaine shivered just thinking about how cold he was going to be tonight. He thought he could smell snow in the air. He already felt a cold coming on, but he couldn't do anything about it.

 

“Well, time to go. I want you to know how much I appreciate you giving me a ride every day, Kurt. It sure saves on shoe leather and I enjoy your company,” Blaine smiled.

“I enjoy yours, too. Listen, I wanted to talk to you for just another minute,” Kurt said and Blaine nodded, his apprehension twisting his empty stomach.

“I...well, I sometimes work for my dad, he owns a tire and lube shop. I had saved about $160 and I want you to have it to help with getting Sandy and Ranger back. Now, I know what you're going to say – that you don't want charity. Well, this isn't charity. This is a _loan_. I trust you, Blaine, and I don't want you to lose your dogs. So don't say anything, just take the money and maybe you can get one of them out?”

Blaine couldn't stop his tears. He tried to thank Kurt, but he couldn't articulate a single word. He finally just leaned over the console and put his arms around Kurt, hugging him tightly, and then got out of the Navigator. He walked away, tripping a little as he tried to walk with the tears running down his face.

Now he was faced with something he hadn't even thought about. He had the means to save _one_ of his dogs – but which one? He suddenly had all the sympathy in the world for Sophie and her Choice.

 

Kurt sat in his SUV for a while, watching as Blaine walked away. He knew something was going on with his new friend. He was so full of conflicting things – he spoke and held himself in a well-bred manner that didn't really fit with the old work clothes and dirty skin. It made no sense. Had his family come on hard times like Sam's family had? Blaine never spoke about anything personal, with the exception of the dogs.

Kurt decided he needed to find out. At the risk of Blaine getting very angry, Kurt followed him. He stayed a ways back, but with the leaves gone from the trees, he could see Blaine quite a ways off. He saw him walking down by the river, then disappear under the bridge. Kurt got to the edge of an embankment in just enough time to see his friend crawl into a large cardboard box and shut the flaps.

“Oh. Oh, my stars...” Kurt said and turned to make his way back to his SUV. He sat in the Navigator for a while, trying to calm himself down and to decide what to do. He finally noticed the street lights turn on and he headed for home and his dad.

 

~

 

“Hey, Kurt! You're late tonight. Was there a rehearsal?” Burt asked, coming out of the kitchen when he heard Kurt close the front door. He was met with his weeping son – who ran to his dad and put his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“I love you, Dad,” was all he said.

“Hey now, son. What's wrong? Are those bullies back at it?” Burt asked, concern wrinkling his brow as he tried to pull back to see Kurt's face.

“No, Dad...it's...my friend, Blaine...and his dogs...” Kurt said with shaky voice.

“Let's go sit down and get some supper, okay? You can tell me all about it,” Burt said, guiding his son into the dining room and setting him down with a bowl of hot soup and garlic bread.

Kurt told his dad everything about the dogs that had come in, Sandy and Ranger, and about Blaine coming to visit them every day after looking for a job and busking for tips.

Burt asked questions – about the rules of the Pound and the fines that needed to be paid for the boy to get his dogs back. He asked about his family and why they hadn't helped.

“Oh, Dad...I wondered that myself. I thought it was maybe like Sam's situation. It isn't exactly. I don't know the particulars, Blaine won't say, but I followed him home tonight. Oh my god, Dad...he's living in a cardboard box under the bridge!” Kurt practically shouted.

“What?”

“Yeah. I saw him. He didn't see me, but I saw him climb into the box when I dropped him off. Dad, I have to do something,” Kurt started sobbing again.

Burt's heart hurt for his son. Kurt had such a kind heart and for a long time Burt had worried that the bullying had changed him. Here was proof that his sweet little boy was living on in his teenage son. He had more hope than ever now that Kurt would grow into a kind, caring adult that Burt and Elizabeth had always wanted.

“Hey, now. You know I'll do what I can to help. We can go over there and ask him to come home with us, Kurt. I can't rest knowing a boy is sleeping in a box by the river. It feels like snow tonight, we have to hurry. Get your coat.”

“What? Do you mean now?” Kurt asked, his eyes wide as he realized his father meant that exact thing.

“Yes, now. I can't let that go on and not do anything about it, Kurt. Let's go.”

 

~

 

“It's down here...” Kurt said quietly as he made his way down the embankment to the river and walked along a recently made path that led under the bridge.

Burt crashed through some underbrush, regaining his footing as he pulled his collar up farther around his neck in the freezing wind.

“Blaine?” Kurt called and heard a rustling of leaves as the boy crawled out of his box.

“Kurt? What are you doing...?” he asked, his eyes sleepy. He came out of his box, shivering in the cold. He stared at his friend with a look of betrayal, then over to the man standing behind him.

“Blaine, this is my father, Burt Hummel,” Kurt started and Blaine held out his hand to shake automatically.

“Good to meet you, sir. I'm Blaine An....ah, my name is Blaine.”

“Good to meet you, too, Blaine,” Burt said and shook the young man's hand. He continued to stare for a few minutes, not seeing much in the wan light of the flashlight.

“Why are you here, though?” Blaine asked, ignoring the strange circumstances of his place of residence.

Burt stepped forward, touching Blaine on the shoulder. He didn't want the skittish boy to turn and run.

“Well, son, Kurt has told me a bit about your story and I came to tell you... or I guess to _ask_ you if you'll come home with us and have some supper?” Burt asked, not wanting to debate the boy's entire circumstance on this windy river bank in the face of an oncoming storm.

“Blaine...” Kurt said when the boy seemed hesitant. “Please, Blaine. There is a storm coming and you need to be in somewhere safe and warm. We couldn't sleep knowing you're out here.”

Blaine blushed, ashamed that he'd caused so much strife for his friend and the boy's father.

“Please.”

“Okay, maybe just for tonight,” Blaine agreed reluctantly. He could tell that the Hummel men were not going to let this go and he didn't want them to stand here in the freezing wind while he argued. He could always slip away later.

 

~

 

“You can take a shower if you like and – do you have any clean clothes?” Kurt asked.

“Ah, no. Just another pair of jeans and two shirts, but they haven't been washed...” Blaine said, shame on his face. He should have found a way to wash them. He sometimes was able to wash his face and take a bit of a sponge bath in the rest room of the small grocery, but it wasn't a place to wash his clothes.

“Well, then I can loan you some sweats while we wash your clothes,” Kurt said with finality. He waited while Blaine took off his clothes and got into the robe Kurt had loaned him, then opened the bathroom door to hand his laundry to Kurt and take the small pile of sweats he was handed.

“Kurt, you are so kind, you and your dad. Thank you.”

“It isn't anything that any person wouldn't do, Blaine. It's just basic human kindness,” Kurt smiled, but Blaine knew it was more. These were good people and he was grateful. He just wondered how welcome he would be when he told them the whole story.

 

Burt smiled as Kurt and Blaine walked into the dining room.

“Well, Blaine. You look like you feel better? Warmer at least. Here, sit down and have some soup,” Burt said, a warm smile on his face. He had some hard truths to go over with this young man but he wanted him to at least have a full belly when they started. The kid looked half-starved.

“Oh, this is wonderful, thank you,” he complemented the Hummel men. The soup was homemade, a rich, thick chicken broth with pieces of juicy meat and fat noodles swimming in it. He finished the first bowl in record time in spite of trying not to gobble it down. He had been taught manners and slurping his soup was not gentlemanly.

Burt didn't even ask if he wanted more, he just refilled the bowl to the brim and waited while Blaine ate it.

“Okay, kid. I know you might not think this is any of my business, but you're wrong. Any kid your age that is on his own is everyone's business. So spill, what brought you to the riverbank to live in a cardboard box?” Burt was anything but subtle.

“Ah, well...it's a long story. I just don't have a home and I was trying to get back on my feet. I've been trying to find a job – I wasn't looking for a handout, sir,” Blaine said in a shaky voice. He felt better having some food in his empty belly, but he was still shy of telling what he'd done to put himself in this condition.

“Where are your folks? I know they wouldn't want their son out on his own. What happened to you?” Burt asked again. He had all the time in the world and he was pretty sure he could get to the bottom of this. Kurt had mentioned that Blaine was gay and Burt was thinking it might have something to do with that, but he wasn't going to start with that. The kid was skittish enough as it was.

“You know I can't let you live in a box on the riverbank, don't you Blaine?” Burt said, his eyes kind as he saw the boy's struggle.

Blaine looked down at the table and closed his eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

“Blaine, you can call me 'Burt'. Okay?”

“Yes, Burt.”

“You can stay in the guest room tonight and we can start to work on getting you out of this mess you've gotten yourself into tomorrow,” Burt offered, seeing the kid needed a good night's sleep.

“Dad, can we talk about the dogs?” Kurt asked. He knew that was Blaine's number one priority and he thought if they could find a way to save them...

“Okay. Kurt has told me about your dogs. Am I right in guessing you found these dogs when you started living al fresco?” Burt asked.

“Yes. I was so alone...and Sandy killed a rat that was trying to steal my dinner...” Blaine said, tears in his eyes thinking about the dogs. He was still struggling with which he would save if he had enough money.

“Dad, we can put the dogs in the yard at the shop, can't we? They would be safe there until Blaine is back on his feet,” Kurt said with enthusiasm.

“That could be considered, Kurt. I think there are a few things we need to do first, though...” Burt said, not wanting their discussion to deviate too far from the central problem – finding out what was really going on with Blaine. If that was his real name.

 

“I only have four days before they...before they kill my friends,” Blaine said, his voice broken. He put his head down in his arms on the table and tried his very best not to start crying again.

Kurt got up and sat in the chair next to Blaine, putting an arm around his shoulders to support him. Burt watched as his son showed extraordinary kindness to another person in much the way his mother had always done. It was days like this that Burt missed Elizabeth the most. He blinked back a few tears of his own, wiped his face and blew his nose with his handkerchief before getting back to the matter at hand.

“Okay, what do we need to do first?” he asked, wanting the boys to come up with a plan themselves. They were on the edge of manhood and needed to learn that life was not always fair, they they had to face it and find their own answers.

“I need to get back out there and find a job,” Blaine said. “Even if I can't save my dogs, I have obligations and I've let this get in the way of my goals,” he said, almost to himself. Burt could see he was blaming himself for something and was trying to weigh the obligation with the lives of the dogs. It was a hard thing, he could tell, but the boy wasn't trying to shuffle it off on anyone else. He was facing his hard decisions himself.

“What do you know about cars?” Burt asked.

“Not a lot, but I did rebuild a classic car with my dad last summer,” Blaine brightened up. His dad had surprised him with the car for his birthday and they had worked all summer on restoring it. Blaine suspected it was an attempt on his dad's part to make him straight, but he enjoyed doing the work and being with his dad just the same.

“What kind of car?” Burt asked.

“It was a 1957 Chevy BelAir,” Blaine smiled. The car was in his garage at home, shiny and new looking and ready for him to drive off to college. His face fell. If he ever went to college..

 

Burt looked at Blaine, considering the small boy and wondering how hard he could work. The kid had a lot of determination, so maybe?

“I'm looking for someone to work in my garage. It isn't anything glamorous – just inventory and keeping the shop clean. You won't be doing anything like rebuilding carburetors, just changing tires maybe,: Burt offered. “You interested in that?”

“Yes, sir! I can work hard, Mr. Hummel, just let me show you!” Blaine shouted, excited to be given a chance.

“You can come in Tuesday morning and I'll get you acquainted with the shop,” Burt said, holding out his hand and shaking on the deal. The kid was small but he had some muscle. Burt had the feeling he would be able to do the job just fine.

 

“It's late and I have work to do in the morning. You guys get some sleep, too. There's a patio to clean and get ready for winter, Kurt,” Burt said, getting up from his place at the table. He scooped up the empty soup bowl from the table and put it in the dishwasher before he made his way to his bed upstairs.

 

 


	5. Time's Up

**Nick of Time – Chapter Five – Time's Up**

 

“Do you want some dessert, Blaine? There's some of the Dutch apple pie I made yesterday still in the kitchen. I was going to have a piece and watch a movie before heading to bed,” Kurt offered. He needed to wind down after the day he'd had and he suspected Blaine did, too.

“That sounds wonderful,” Blaine said, smiling at Kurt. He wanted to go to sleep, he was dead tired, but he wanted to sit with Kurt even more. He'd liked Kurt from the beginning, recognizing a kindred spirit from the first moments. Plus, Kurt was intelligent and kind. His good looks were just a bonus.

Kurt led him into the den and waved his hand at the stacks of DVDs.

“Pick anything you want, or I have a subscription to Netflix if you want to pick from there,” Kurt smiled. He handed Blaine the remote and got him comfortable before going to the kitchen and dishing up the apple pie. After heating them the slices in the microwave, he put a small scoop of vanilla ice cream on each one. Going into the laundry room, he put Blaine's things into the dryer before taking the dessert into the den.

 

“Here we go – I hope you like your pie a la mode?” Kurt asked as he sat next to Blaine on the sofa.

“I love it,” Blaine grinned.

“Did you find anything you wanted to watch?” Kurt asked and Blaine blushed. Kurt's eyebrow went up in question and Blaine blushed harder.

“I was...well, you had RENT and I had never seen it. It isn't something I could watch at home, you know?” Blaine said, looking anywhere but at Kurt. He knew Kurt was gay, but it was so different than his own life experience. His dad had made it clear that he was okay with Blaine's orientation, but still it was not something he'd ever been able to talk about. It wasn't something that The Anderson's did. Feelings and sensitive subjects like that just weren't in their wheelhouse.

Blaine was searching the movies in the book case, his eyes reading the titles of so many films that he'd heard of but never seen: _Brokeback Mountain, Philadelphia. My Beautiful Laundrette. Were The World Mine. Milk._ He saw a lot of musicals, too, and had considered watching _Priscilla, Queen of the Desert_ , but chose RENT instead. It wasn't hard to guess that these probably weren't Burt's choices.

“Your dad...he doesn't mind that you watch things like this?” Blaine asked, pulling Priscilla out and reading the list of songs on the back cover.

“Of course not. I don't mind that he watches John Wayne and every sport known to man. We respect each other's space and choices for the most part. Why? Isn't it like that in your family?” Kurt asks, looking sadly at Blaine.

“My folks...they know I'm gay and they have never tried to change me. Well, not outright. I think the whole restoring the car might have been an attempt on my dad's part to nudge me in that direction,” Blaine rolled his eyes. “But no, they don't bash me for it. At the same time, I don't think it would go over well if I were to turn Brokeback Mountain on in the living room while we had the Junior League president over for cocktails.”

Kurt snorted as he took this in, but didn't want to comment on it. So, Blaine did have a family. Hmmm.

He turned on the TV and put in the movie. They ate their apple pie and drank glasses of cold milk while they watched the movie. Kurt had seen it a dozen or more times and sang along with the actors. It was chilly in the room and Kurt got a quilt from the shelf and draped it over the two of them. Sitting next to Kurt under the warm quilt made Blaine sleepy and he closed his eyes several times, finally resting against Kurt's side and falling asleep.

 

~

 

Burt came down to start breakfast in the morning to find the two boys asleep on the sofa, Blaine's arms around Kurt as they slept. He shook his head, smiling at them.

“Hey, sleepy heads. Time to rise and shine!” he chirped in a bright voice, opening the drapes to see the sun rise.

Kurt and Blaine blinked awake, Blaine blushing bright red as he realized he'd fallen asleep with Kurt on the sofa. He was so ashamed of himself, acting this way in another person's house. What would Burt think of him?

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Hummel...I must have fallen asleep...” he stuttered, not knowing where to look.

“Don't worry about it, kid. Let's get some breakfast and get to work. You two have a task already waiting for you,” he said, waving his arm towards the window. Blaine sat up, tapping Kurt's shoulder as he looked out. The yard was covered with a thick layer of bright snow.

Kurt closed his eyes and thanked his lucky stars – and his father – for bringing Blaine home with them last night. He would be frozen by now if he'd slept in the cardboard box. He looked into Blaine's eyes and knew he realized this, too.

“Thank you, Mr. Hummel, for all of your kind generosity. I think I owe you a lot,” he whispered.

Burt came over and patted the boy on his shoulder.

“You're welcome, son.”

 

~

 

After breakfast, Blaine got his freshly cleaned clothes from Kurt and got dressed. He kept bowing his head to smell the fresh scent of the shirt. He had no idea how much he had missed this scent over the past six weeks.

They shoveled the walks and cleaned up the breakfast dishes while Burt left to check on things at the shop.

“I have something I need to get done this morning, Kurt,” Blaine said, knowing he could not put this off another minute. He'd been thinking last night and finally came up with a plan he should have thought of a long time ago. He needed to go to his locker at the bus station and get his shoes. His Hermes blue calfskin suede shoes his mother got him for his last birthday. He loved those shoes more than almost anything, but they were worth a lot of money and maybe he could sell them at a consignment store for enough to save his dogs. The Pound was not open on the weekends, but he had until Tuesday to pay their fines. He prayed there was enough time to sell the shoes.

“What can I do to help?” Kurt asked.

“I'm not sure where we are. How close do you live from downtown Lima?” Blaine asked. He needed to get to the bus station and then the shop he'd seen on the next block over from that.

“Not far. I'll give you a ride. I need to get the grocery shopping done today. Can I drop you off and then we can meet up for lunch?” Kurt asked.

“That would be great,” Blaine tried to smile, but the problems dragging him down kept it from reaching his eyes.

Kurt gave him a quick half-hug and they put on their coats. Kurt handed Blaine the thick woolen scarf, the knit hat, and the pair of warm gloves that he'd loaned him when they shoveled the walks. They were on their way.

 

 

Blaine walked into the bus station and over to the lockers, taking out the key. He opened the locker and took out his clothes: the navy sport jacket and linen shirt, the gray Dalton uniform trousers and finally the blue shoes. He hugged them to his chest, blinking back tears as he thought of the day he opened the brightly wrapped package and found his heart's desire inside. A lot of time had gone by since that day. A lifetime it seemed.

He put the rest of his clothes back in the locker and took the shoes, zipping them inside his coat and leaving the bus station. He walked down the street to the consignment shop, pushing the door open to the sound of a ringing bell.

The owner came to the counter, a smile on his face as he looked Blaine up and down. The old man was schooling his face to tell the boy he did not buy used Levis or whatever the poor kid was trying to sell, but his face changed as the shoes were placed on the counter.

“Well, well, my young friend. And what are you doing with a pair of this season's Hermes Napoli derby shoes?” he asked, a smile on his face.

“They were...a birthday present from my mother, but I need the money. Can I sell them to you?” he asked.

“Of course, of course. You know how this works, right? You sign them over and I put them in the shop. When I sell them, we split the proceeds fifty-fifty. Simple,” the man said.

“Is there...is there any way I can just sell them to you?” Blaine asked. He knew the shoes retailed at over $800.

“We might work something out, my boy. You know that would be even less for you, though. I can't just give you a lot of money, I don't keep that kind of cash in the shop,” he said. He noticed how very difficult this was for Blaine, he saw the held-back tears and the quivering chin as Blaine tried to show a brave face to the shop owner.

“I can give you $250. How is that?” he asked and Blaine's face paled. He thought he could get at least $400. “I'll write you a check right now.”

“Oh, I need cash. I can't cash a check...” Blaine said, his eyes astonished as he thought of the problems of trying to cash a check before Monday.

“I can't help you there. I'm ready to put them on consignment for you, though,” he said. “I'll ask $600 and that would give you $300 when they sell. Would that be better?”

Blaine stood there and thought, not sure if it would work. With Kurt's $160 and his $90...yes, that would be enough to redeem both dogs.

“How soon do you think they might sell?” Blaine asked.

“I have a guy that usually buys all my high-end stuff. He's due in here on Monday morning, so I'm guessing I will have the money for you by Monday afternoon, though that is not a guarantee.”

“I'll take it,” Blaine said with tears in his eyes. He'd thought long and hard about this and he had finally decided that the dog's lives were worth more than the shoes. He was ashamed it had been such a hard decision, lives of innocent animals meant so much more than a pair of shoes.

 

Having done his business, Blaine walked down the street to the grocery store and found Kurt inside. He walked up and down the aisles with his new friend, answering questions about what he liked to eat, what he knew how to cook, what he knew about eating healthy. It was the kind of mindless chatter that helped him get his mind away from his problems.

Things were better this afternoon than they had been the day before. He had a job – finally. While he hadn't talked over salary with Burt, it was a million times better than singing in the park. He felt okay using some money to spring Sandy and Ranger from doggie jail and still getting on track to earn the $7000 to repay the Children's Hospital Foundation. He felt optimistic for the first time since that fateful morning when he carelessly lost the charity money.

 

~

 

The rest of the weekend went well. Blaine, with his new-found optimism, was better company than he'd been in the weeks before. Kurt didn't know exactly what had happened, but he was glad to see his friend blossoming before his very eyes. He'd liked Blaine from the first moments he'd met him and that just grew as they spent more time together.

They went down to Burt's shop on Sunday morning so Kurt could show him the yard he'd fixed up. He thought the dogs could stay there while Blaine was working and then come home with him in the evenings. Blaine was overjoyed at the thought the dogs would be with him once again. He had come first to depend on them for warmth and companionship and it had grown into love.

The boys spent most of Sunday cleaning the shop for Burt and then coming home to cook a nice supper. The next day, Monday, was the start of Thanksgiving Holiday for Kurt. He was ready to go with Blaine in the afternoon to get the dogs and bring them home.

 

~

 

“Did you sell the shoes?” Blaine asked as he walked into the shop. He hadn't been able to get away from Kurt, so the boy was with him today.

“Ah, my fine young friend with the expensive tastes,” the shop owner greeted him, a smile on his face. “No, I'm afraid I haven't yet. My usual buyer was delayed by the snow, but he will be here by Wednesday. I told him about the shoes and he is anxious to see them. I think you have a sale in your future.”

“Wednesday is too late...” Blaine said in a sad voice. He realized suddenly that he had pinned all of his hope on this sale. He turned to leave, but Kurt took his hand.

“I guess I'll take the shoes back then,” Blaine said reluctantly. He stood by the counter as the man took them out of the window and placed them in a bag for Blaine. Kurt's eyes were out on stalks as he saw the blue shoes. He knew Hermes when he saw it and these... these were the new line. Hermes Napoli calf-skin suede derby shoes, featured in GQ magazine just a few months ago. Who _was_ Blaine?

 

Walking to the Navigator, Blaine just hung his head. He was back to deciding which dog he would save. He had finally decided on Sandy. She would be easier to feed and she had saved him from the rat, he supposed. They got in the SUV for the ride home and Blaine rested his head on the back of the seat, his forehead wrinkled in deep thought.

Ranger might be the better choice – Sandy was cute and maybe someone could fall in love with her tomorrow? Damn it, he just could not choose.

“I talked to Dad last night, Blaine. He said he will give you an advance on your wages. I explained the rules at the Dog Pound and he understands, he doesn't want the dogs put down, either. We'll go in tomorrow morning and get them. Okay?” Kurt tried to soothe his friend.

“That is so kind of him. I won't let him down, Kurt. You can trust me....” Blaine said, then burst into tears. Those were the very words he'd said to his dad just before he'd set out to take the charity money to the bank.

Blaine was inconsolable.

Kurt pulled over and tried to reason with him, assuring him over and over again that everything was going to be okay. Blaine couldn't even speak to Kurt, his crying gone to the stage of non-verbal sobbing. Kurt finally reached over to cup Blaine's chin, bringing his face up so he could see his eyes. They were so very warm with beautiful golden highlights in the mahogany depths.

“Blaine, we are going to fix this. I promise. Now, calm down and we can go home and fix supper for Dad. Okay?” he asked and Blaine nodded his head.

 

Blaine could not make himself eat that evening. He pushed the Sunday roast around on his plate, ate a few mouthfuls of the mashed potatoes but just could not force himself to take it in. He asked to be excused and went to the guest room to sit on his bed and think over his life.

He missed his folks, missed them desperately. He had an idea that he could, with much determination and hard work, be able to remedy his huge mistake. He'd make up the money to the charity, but he had little hope of redeeming himself with his parents.

* * *

 

 


	6. End of the Road

**Nick of Time – Chapter Six – End of the Road**

 

_ HUGH _

 

Hugh Anderson was a self-made man. He'd taken his education and put it to good use with a lot of hard work and made a prosperous company. It had been the pride of his life, knowing he could support his family and give back to his community in the ways he knew were right.

Pamela Creighton-Anderson was proud of what her husband had accomplished and stood by him in everything. She had helped their family give back by creating a charity foundation for the Children's Hospital, which she had built from the ground up. She and Hugh were glad to be of service to a worthy cause and had brought Blaine up to understand that while he held a prestigious place in society, he only got there by the grace of the people he could help in return.

Blaine had always been proud of his family and took his role seriously – both as a member of the Anderson family and as an individual. He was a hard worker and a good leader, his manners impeccable and his heart in the right place. So, when he lost the charity money that was so dear to his mother's heart, it gutted him.

Hugh had worked hard to keep his company profitable, things had gone badly awry six months ago. His partner, a friend from college, had made some bad decisions that impacted the company. Instead of letting their clients down, Hugh had used the company money to set things right. It wasn't an ideal situation, but it was what he felt was right. This decision came with a lot of stress.

After Blaine went missing, Hugh gave a lot of thought about the things that had gone on in the days before. He realized he'd been grumpy if not actually short-tempered and very critical of his tender-hearted son. He regretted that so much now. He had sent out flyers, driven up and down the streets of Columbus and Westerville, called the police in every nearby town. Now it was just days from Thanksgiving and he missed his son terribly. He was determined to find him and was out driving to another town early Monday morning.

 

It was a longshot to drive to Lima, but so were all the other towns he'd been through in the past weeks. He had faith that he would find his son and explain to him what was going on in their lives. He was just about out of hope, but could not stop trying. Every time he came home to see the pain in his wife's eyes it just about killed him.

 

~

 

The snow was still on the ground but the weather had warmed up since the snowfall. Hugh came into Lima and headed downtown, getting out a few flyers to pass around just in case. He went into a coffee shop and asked a few people if they had seen the boy in the picture.

“Yeah, that's Blaine,” one girl told him.

“You...you know my son? Where did you see him? Do you know where he is now?” Hugh asked, trembling with this new knowledge. It was the first positive thing he'd heard since the day Blaine disappeared.

“Yeah, I kinda know him...” said her companion. “Though I haven't seen him for a few weeks. He's the kid that busks in the park with that guitar player. I haven't seen either of them since before the snow, though.”

“Which park? Can you give me directions?” Hugh begged. He needed to find his son.

“Just across the street there, but I saw him with his dogs down by the river lots of times,” the girl said. She was looking Hugh up and down, trying to figure why Blaine would be hiding from this nice man.

“The river?” he asked.

“Yeah, over on the other side of the park. He was squatting under the bridge in a big cardboard box. I saw him lots of times, gave him tips whenever he sang a song for me,” the girl said. “I haven't seen him since the dog catcher got his dogs, though. He stopped busking then. I kinda miss him,” the girl said.

“Thank you,” Hugh told the girl and left to walk over to the park.

He walked along the path, imagining all too well the pain his son must have been in to live here. He knew Blaine was an honorable person and the loss of the charity money must have been devastating to the boy with the big heart. He wanted to find Blaine, to tell him nothing mattered but having him home and safe with his family once again.

Hugh saw the river and walked down that path, coming upon a soggy cardboard box filled with old mashed leaves and a smelly blanket. He sat down on a rock beside the box and put his face in his hands and cried.

The wind was cold down by the water, so he made his way back up to the park and to his car. He sat for a moment, trying to pull himself together. He had an idea. That girl had said the dog catcher had taken his dogs. It would be just like Blaine to rescue a couple of homeless dogs in the middle of his own crisis. Maybe he could go to where they took the dogs and find out something, maybe there would be paperwork or some kind of trail?

 

After a quick check with Google on his phone, Hugh pulled up outside the Dog Pound. He went inside and found a nice woman at the desk. After explaining what he wanted, she told him the dogs were on their last day before being put down. Then she took him aside and told him about how his son had come every day to visit the dogs, how he'd helped the employees clean the dog pens, cheered them up.

Hugh asked if the dogs were still here. He paid their fines and was rewarded with being jumped all over by two very dirty but enthusiastic pups, both pawing at him with filthy feet.

“I'm off shift now, Mr. Anderson, so I would be happy to help you out to your car with those dogs,” Caroline said, happy to be part of helping Blaine in some way. He'd made a big impression on all of the staff.

“Blaine comes in with Kurt in the afternoons, so he should be here in about an hour.”

But Blaine never came. Hugh waited until the Dog Pound closed, then went back into town and got a hotel room. He bought some food and fed the dogs and set his alarm for early morning so he could be a the Dog Pound and meet up with Blaine.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hurry, Kurt!” Blaine called, rushing in to the front desk. There was nobody there and Blaine went into the back area to say good morning to Sandy and Ranger. He got to their pen and...it was empty. Well they must be in another cage, maybe moved so new arrivals could come in. Kurt caught up with him and looked at the empty pen.

“Hey, where's Ranger and Sandy?” Kurt asked, looking at Blaine. Cameron, one of the employees, came in and Kurt asked where the dogs were.

“Gone when I got here. The vet was by yesterday, here on an injured dog case. Maybe he just got the week's work done a day ahead – those dogs were on their last day, weren't they?”

Blaine stopped, turning to Kurt with a shocked look on his face.

“Does that happen? That they kill them early? Are they...de...dea...' he couldn't even finish the word.

Kurt hadn't known of that happening before, but it was not out of the realm of possibility. He reached for Blaine, helping him up to offer what comfort he could. Blaine sank into his arms for a brief moment, then turned and ran from the building.

 

“Blaine!” Caroline shouted, not wanting the boy to miss his dad. She had been excited when the man came to pay the fines and rescue the two dogs. She knew Blaine would be over-the-moon with happiness and didn't want to miss the look on his face. It wasn't often that a story had a fairytale ending like this in her world.

“Where did he go?” asked Kurt, hurrying from the back room behind his friend.

“He left before I could tell him....his dad came here yesterday and paid the fines. He waited all afternoon to see Blaine. Where were you two?”

“We were trying to raise the money to get the dogs out. It took time and so we had to wait until this morning. You mean the dogs are still alive? Wait....Blaine's dad was here?” Kurt asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Yes. Mr. Anderson said he would be back this morning to find Blaine,” Caroline said as Kurt grinned at her and hurried out the door to catch up with Blaine.

 

Blaine came outside and sank down onto the icy bench in front of the Dog Pound. He had nothing left. He'd screwed up the one thing his dad trusted him with, then he took in two strays that would probably be fine if he hadn't made friends with them. He put his head down in his hands and wondered why he couldn't cry. There were just no tears left.

Then he heard dogs barking....it was Sandy and Ranger, he was sure. Weeks of being with the two dogs made their barks as familiar to him as his parents' voices. He popped up his head, trying to find which direction he'd heard the barking.

 

There, just a dozen yards in front of him, were two beautiful dogs....neatly groomed and sporting new collars with tags attached. And holding the leashes was his father.

Blaine got up and ran to his dad, throwing his arms around the man and hugging him close. He breathed in the scent of English leather after shave and Copenhagen snuff – the odors he associated with his father and home. It smelled better than anything to him.

“Dad....Dad! How did you know? How did you find me?” he sobbed, so happy for that instant in time – to have his dogs back and his father hugging him.

Hugh was hugging Blaine, his arms so tight around his son as he thought he would never again let go of the boy.

“Blaine, Blaine...I am so happy to have you once again in my arms. I love you so much, son,” Hugh said, tears running down his face. They stood there for ages until Blaine heard someone clearing their throat.

“Oh, Kurt...this is my father, Hugh Anderson. Dad, this is my friend, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine introduced him.

“Good to meet you, sir,” Kurt said, shaking the man's hand as his father had taught him. He gave the man a smile, glad Blaine had his father back but sad he was now going to leave.

“Is Blaine staying with you, son?” Hugh asked. He could tell Blaine was clean and appeared to be fed, which wasn't what he expected from the descriptions the girls had given him in the coffee shop.

“Yes, sir. Blaine has been staying with my father and me. He just got a job and we were coming to get the dogs...” Kurt said, distracted by the two dogs. They didn't look the same at all. Hugh had a few hours before the Pound opened up so he'd taken them to the dog groomers and had them bathed and combed. They almost didn't look like the same dogs.

“Can we....Kurt, can we come to your house? I think my dad and I have some things to discuss if that is okay?” Blaine asked. He knew his father would need some explanations and he didn't want to do it here on the street.

“Of course. Let me go tell Caroline I'll be in later and I'll meet you at home,” he said, gathering Blaine up in his arms and hugging him close to his chest. “Everything is going to be okay, Blaine. I know it is,” he whispered into Blaine's ear. Blaine nodded and gave him a fleeting kiss on the cheek without thinking.

“I'll see you there in a little while, Kurt. Thank you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The four men were sitting in the living room, Kurt and Blaine on the sofa and their fathers in the over-stuffed easy chairs. Kurt had made everyone a slice of pie with ice cream and coffee. The dogs were in his backyard, playing in the snow.

“Dad....” Blaine started, knowing he had to tell his father how he'd lost the money for the charity and how he planned to earn it back.

“I...I didn't do as you told me that day. I was on the bus, and it was crowded, but when a woman got on with bags and things, I gave her my seat. I thought I had the brief case between my ankles as the bus got more and more crowded. Then, when I got off at the bank, I found out the case I'd been guarding with my feet was....the wrong one. I'd taken my eyes off of it, just as you warned me,” Blaine said, moving back to sit closer to Kurt, drawing strength from being close to his friend. He knew he had to get the whole story out before he lost his courage.

“I came here to try and earn the money back somehow. I couldn't find a job at first – I was busking in the park to get money to feed myself. I had just gotten a job and was starting on Wednesday at Mr. Hummel's auto shop.”

Hugh smiled at his son, so proud that the boy was willing to do anything to earn back the money he'd lost.

 

Hugh got up and sat on the ottoman in front of his son. He took Blaine's hands in his own.

“Blaine, I want you to stop worrying. I know what happened. You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes and not for one moment did your mother or I believe you did anything wrong. I got a call at my office an hour after you left. It was from the bank. Someone on the bus saw what happened but they didn't get off the bus in enough time to catch you. They turned the briefcase into the bank right away – with every dollar of the charity money still in the case,” Hugh told his son.

“Blaine's eyes grew wide. He didn't need to earn that money back? He was so happy that the foundation didn't have to wait to get the funds, he knew there was a great need for the money for programs to help needy children pay for their hospital bills, money needed for equipment and research. He wiped his eyes and squeezed his hands with relief.

Hugh went back to the chair, his heart full. He was so proud of his son.

“Dad...I don't know what to say. Of course I'm glad the money was returned – but the fact is that I was careless and for that I am sorry. I'm sorry I worried you and Mom,” he said softly. He'd spoken to his mother on the phone on the way to the Hummel's house.

 

Blaine reached for Kurt's hand, but Kurt put his arms around Blaine and pulled him close. Blaine snuggled into Kurt's warmth and smiled.

 

“Hugh,” Burt said, smiling at the man. He found he liked Blaine's father more than he'd expected to. It was a sad story that Blaine had to tell him, but it had turned out better than anyone had expected.

“Hugh, would you and your wife join us for Thanksgiving?” Burt asked. He knew the boys had grown closer over the last weeks and he could tell they wanted to remain friends, but with living so far away....

“That would be lovely. I think we would love to come and celebrate Thanksgiving with your family,” Hugh smiled.

“Then it's settled,” Burt grinned, winking at Kurt when his son smiled at him. “I think I can have lunch ready in a few minutes if you would care to stay?” Burt asked and it was arranged.

 

 

After lunch Blaine and Kurt went out in the yard to play with the dogs.

“Blaine, I'm glad you are gonna be okay,” Kurt offered. He was looking at Blaine shyly, his voice soft. Blaine was the first boy he'd really wanted to be more than just casual friends with and he thought Blaine was thinking the same thing.

“I'm just kinda sorry I live so far away. And I don't even live at home during the week – I board at school.”

Kurt's eyes flashed over at Blaine.

“You...what school do you go to?” he asked. Kurt was switching schools at the semester. Due to bullying, his father had arranged for him to board at a prep school in Westerville. It was a bit closer to Columbus, but not that much closer. There weren't that many boarding schools in Ohio...were there?

“Dalton Academy. I have gone there since I started high school. I'm a junior...” Blaine said, a vague smile on his face at the thought of his friends at Dalton.

Kurt's smile could be seen from space.

“Oh, Blaine! I start Dalton Academy in January....maybe we could be friends there?”

Blaine leaned closer to Kurt, finally finding the courage to do what he'd wanted to do all week. He looked into Kurt's beautiful blue eyes, then closed his own and let his lips touch Kurt's. It was like fireworks. Then Kurt kissed him back and they finally drew back, smiles on their faces and

“Kurt, I think we're already friends.”

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
